


Cures All Ills

by Rubynye



Category: Lord of the Rings - Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-14
Updated: 2010-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-06 07:07:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/pseuds/Rubynye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merry is bored. Pippin misses him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cures All Ills

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note/Dedication: this is for [](http://danachan.livejournal.com/profile)[**danachan**](http://danachan.livejournal.com/), for everything she does, and for the story offer I posted recently.

Title: Cures All Ills  
Rating: NC-17  
Pairing: Merry/Pippin.  
Summary: Merry is bored. Pippin misses him.   
Warning: slash, pushy Took, damage to bedclothes.

 

Merry stares at the ceiling. Darker shadows at the corners outlining its curve, it lies above him, blank and blameless and utterly utterly _boring_. It's the middle of the night, and Merry is bored and awake and alone in his bed. Awake, because he spent most of the day asleep, and the day before that, and the day before that; he's usually a healthy young hobbit, but this particular chill knocked him for a loop. Alone, because Pippin has been forbidden from seeing him, let alone sleeping beside him, lest he catch whatever Merry has and come down worse with it.

That's also why Merry is bored. Well, that and that it's the middle of the night, so everyone is asleep, and he can't get back to sleep and he itches all over with incipient wellness. He could light a candle and try to read, but none of the books in his room appeal, and it's rather cold to go wandering out to the library.

It's so _quiet_.

Merry stares at the ceiling again.

Where the shadows aren't black, they're blue.

A few moments later, Merry is so profoundly bored he can hear his own heartbeat, so desperately bored he's ready to leave the warm bed and find a robe and walk round the Hall, maybe to the library, perhaps just for the exercise. Merry sits up, just in time to see his door open and a nightshirted tweenager slip through, and his heart flares despite him. "Pippin!"

Pippin dons his second-most-charming grin. "Hullo, Merry."

Pippin. Merry's best cousin, his beautiful lad. Pippin, whom he's missed sorely in several different ways. Even so, Merry has responsibilities. "You shouldn't be in here!" Merry hisses, frantically waving; Pippin shuts the door with his shoulder, crossing his arms over his chest and widening his eyes. Even in the dim light, they gleam. "Why not?"

"You know full well why not! You'll catch my chill, and I won't have you sick again this winter." Pippin merely tilts his grin as he crosses to Merry's bed, despite Merry's gesticulations. "Pippin, don't come near me!"

"I have no intention of going near you, o conceited Brandybuck," Pippin says, and now the grin is the most-charming-one, and Merry has to clutch the blanket to keep from reaching out. Pippin climbs onto the foot of the bed, kneeling to face Merry and safely, dreadfully far away. "I shan't touch you at all. I just wanted to see you, and for you to see me."

With that, Pippin strips his nightshirt off.

If Merry thought he could hear his heart beating before, it's fairly pounding in his ears now; he's gone hard faster than he knew he was able, and his hands fairly twitch with the effort of not touching himself or Pippin. Pippin's hard too, and he smirks and tosses his head and rests his hands on his thighs, just looking at Merry, just letting Merry look at him. "P-Pip---" Merry stutters, not knowing whether he wants to say, "Pippin" or "put your nightshirt back on" or "please come here." He settles for biting his lip and clutching the blanket till the cloth strains between his hands.

And Pippin smirks. "I've missed you, you know."

"I've, I have, too, Pippin." How long has he been sick? How long since he hasn't seen anyone but his mother and the servants helping her? How long since he's touched Pippin? It can't be more than a handful of days, but it feels like weeks. Months. Perhaps years, as he looks across the length of the bed at slender, shadow-dappled Pippin.

Who is sliding his hands slowly inward along his thighs. "I've missed you a great deal," Pippin murmurs, and Merry can remember the heat and smoothness of the skin along the insides of Pippin's thighs, can almost feel them beneath his own hands as Pippin strokes his thighs, spreading them. Merry's mouth is dry, and his body is screaming at him to _move_, that Pippin is _too far away_ and oh stars above, Pippin has one hand curved round his cock, loose, almost negligent, and he's not looking down. He's still looking at Merry, still smirking.

Pippin parts his lips, and Merry remembers the feel of them, too, soft and laughing or hard and insistent over his mouth. He looks as if he's about to say something, blinks----Merry wants to feel those lashes move against his cheek, wants to kiss those eyelids----and then says, "you'll wreck that blanket, tugging it like that."

"Well, it'll be your fault if I do," Merry retorts, though he'd rather do other things with his mouth than talk. Pippin looks, well, how he always looks, how he's looked since he went through his Change, how he's looked since he came to Merry wearing his most charming grin and asked to become kissing-friends, and Merry could admit to himself that he desired his cousin. Pippin looks edible as his namesake, and all the more so as he strokes himself, once, slowly, and Merry feels a few threads give between his straining hands.

"How so?" Pippin asks, voice nearly steady----but Merry can hear the hitch----cool and controlled as if he weren't naked and tossing himself off at the foot of Merry's bed. Merry is briefly reminded of Frodo; he bites his lip, hard, to tamp down the resultant surge in his blood. The beautiful cousin currently in his room is enough torment, without dragging in thoughts of his other best cousin.

"Because you shouldn't be in here." Pippin's face softens at that rebuke, his eyes so wide Merry is almost afraid he's really hurt the lad, and it just makes him want to touch Pippin _more_, blast him. "Why, Merry," Pippin says, and Merry can breathe again, hearing the slyness in Pippin's voice, "Don't you want me here?"

_Pippin_, Merry thinks as he groans. "That's not the point. You mustn't catch this."

Pippin sighs, and rolls his eyes, and tosses his head, and Merry wants to suck marks onto each side of that pale throat. "And I shan't. But I wanted to see you. It's been a week since we shared a bed!"

"At least _you_ haven't been ill," Merry retorts, as more threads give way between his hands. "I've been stuck in here, coughing and aching and sleeping." Pippin's face softens again, this time for real, and he stops stroking----Merry sighs, relief and disappointment both----to hold his hands out, and they're so near....

The blanket tears, the snarl of the parting fabric loud in the nighttime quiet; Pippin's laugh is louder, and louder yet when Merry hisses "shhh!" "Ah, Merry, you should see your face!" Pippin cries, and Merry slumps back against his pillows and turns on his side. All right, if Pippin wants to play with himself on Merry's bed there's nothing Merry can do about it, but he doesn't have to watch and yearn and destroy perfectly good bedclothes. Or so he tells himself.

"That won't last," Pippin says smugly; the tremor is back in his voice, and if Merry listens he can _hear_ the slide and slap, he can _see_ in his mind Pippin's pumping hand. And Pippin isn't helping, he's helping so much, he's saying, "you want to watch me, Merry, I know you do, you want to look at me doing this, you want to touch me, you want it to be your hand on my cock..." and he's growing more breathless by the moment, Merry can hear it in his voice, Merry can feel it in his own prickling skin, his own throbbing prick. He curls up and bites his lip again. "Pippin, dash it all---"

"Yes?" Pippin is breathless, Pippin is roused, Pippin is _laughing_, and it goes straight through Merry like sharpened fire, and a hobbit can only take so much. He stretches out his foot, pushing it against Pippin's knee to feel his body moving. Just his blanket-covered foot, that can't pose any risk? Pippin laughs triumphantly, and the laugh shakes Merry from the inside out, and he can't stand it any more.

Merry's sitting up before he knows it; Pippin's head is hanging forward, his body is shaking with the long swift strokes of his hand, his hair is swaying back and forth and he's watching Merry through his lashes and grinning even as he gasps. And he's pinching his nipple with his other hand, and when Merry gasps he can _smell_ Pippin, lavender soap and clean sweat and roused lad and Pippin's own spiciness, and hobbits are not built to withstand such, they really aren't.....

His own prick twitches beneath the wrecked blanket, and Merry thinks briefly of taking himself in hand, but he knows whose hand he wants on him. He's already flinging himself forward over the bed, and Pippin laughs when Merry grasps his arms, laughs into the fierce kiss, laughs a gasp as Merry pushes his hand away and claims its place, laughs up into a cry as Merry grasps soft skin over pulsing-hot hardness; Merry jerks Pippin almost roughly, pulling him in tight till Pippin moans into his mouth and arches against him and peaks all over his hand and his shirt and his skin.

Pippin stealing all his breath in gasps, Merry falls lightheadedly backwards and Pippin collapses with him, on him, lying shaking on his chest, laughing and kissing Merry's cheeks as he recovers. And then they tip and writhe so Pippin is fully over Merry, so Pippin can lean his welcome weight on Merry and kiss him till his eyes roll back, cupping his eggs in one hand and jerking him with the other, wrist twisting, and Merry hears himself scream into Pippin's mouth as he peaks, his whole body aflame and pulsing with life.

A little while later Merry realizes that he and Pippin and his sticky-soaked nightshirt have melded into a heap atop the covers. He drapes an arm over Pippin's bare back and doesn't care.

A little while after that, Pippin shifts his face inward along Merry's throat, and laughs quietly, breath warm and ticklish over Merry's damp skin.

A little while after that Merry thinks vaguely that there was a reason he shouldn't be lying with his arms full of Pippin and his face buried in Pippin's hair, his nightshirt rucked up between them so there's nothing but skin against skin from their chests down.

A little while after that Merry remembers the reason, and swears, and sits up. Pippin blinks at him. "Merry?"

"Pippin, I---argh!" Merry could thrust Pippin away; his hands are already around Pippin's upper arms. But he looks into Pippin's sleepy, startled face, and he can't, there's no way he ever could. "We shouldn't have," he finishes on a groan.

Pippin just smiles, his bright bright smile. "But you feel better, don't you? And I missed you. Come on now, we should sleep."

Merry sighs, and helplessly smiles back. "Pippin. If you catch a chill both our Mams will kill me."

"Then I'd best get some rest, hadn't I? And so had you." Pippin reaches up to tangle his fingers into Merry's hair and draw him down for a kiss, and Merry goes willingly, reaching over to drag the blankets over them both. He strips off his shirt and curls up again around Pippin and closes his eyes.

*|*

Merry gets Pippin out of his room before his mother comes to check on him, but she fixes him with a knowing eye and condemns him to lying abed till tea, "to make certain you're rested." She also takes the cost of the blanket out of his allowance.

Miraculously, Pippin doesn't catch Merry's chill. Merry mutters about it beneath his breath, and Pippin brightly responds, "Merry, don't you know love cures all ills?"


End file.
